


cross my heart and hope to die

by SymphonySoldierXIII



Category: Life Is Strange (Video Game)
Genre: A Lot Of Saying Fuck, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/F, F/M, M/M, Pedophilia, Student/teacher relationship, Trans Character, Trans Nathan Prescott, Underage - Freeform, WARNINGS ARE AS FOLLOWS YALL, Warnings Will Be Added as Needed, look it’s not actually first person it’s an interview, not all the ships happen at the same time, or something! fuck if i know, self harm/suicide mention, this is mostly chronological, those two aren’t warnings i just forgot
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-31
Updated: 2018-10-22
Packaged: 2019-06-19 11:54:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,670
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15509325
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SymphonySoldierXIII/pseuds/SymphonySoldierXIII
Summary: that boy needs therapy





	1. i was 15 the first time it happened

**Author's Note:**

> DISCLAIMER: I do not condone the happenings between Nathan and Jefferson.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nathan recalls the first time he had a particularly remarkable encounter with former Blackwood teacher and renowned photographer Mark Jefferson.
> 
>  
> 
> _i’m a goner / somebody catch my breath_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey demons, it’s me, ya boy
> 
> So thanks for clicking on this fic! Although the fic notes already says this, I want to reiterate: I absolutely do not support or endorse Nathan and Jefferson’s relationship. In a way, I’m writing this to cope with stuff that luckily is nowhere near as bad as what Nathan describes and goes through, but I’m projecting some stuff (cough TRANS cough) because that is how I deal with things or whatever. The point is, I don’t support the gross shit that happens.
> 
> This fic follows canon fairly closely, and honestly if you squint this is exactly what happened
> 
> So Yeah™, thanks for reading, at the end of particularly dark chapters I’ll be posting imgur links to pics of my cat for anyone who needs something light to interrupt the Fucked Up Shit. Or if you just wanna see a cat pic.

I was fifteen the first time he kissed me. It was freshman year I spent the last semester bouncing around arts electives, when I got bored I got bitchy and I also got my daddy - my blood father, that is - to buy me out of multiple suspensions. I guess you can’t just call your counselor a cocksucking whore these days. In my defense, my daddy called her the same thing while she sucked him off in the back of mom’s car. Great role model for me, just fantastic. I never did see that counselor again. Word was she transferred to some school in Montana or fuckin Minnesota or whatever. The hospital bills I sealed back up before giving to the sperm donor said I have a little brother. Who knows if that was even real, though. According to my doctor I see shit all the time. That’s why I’m on so many meds.

Hm? Ph- oh, yeah. That bullshit. Yeah, I finally ended up in an elective that stuck. Maybe too well, but what-the-fuck-ever. This is the first class I left and didn’t immediately burn all my high-end, expensive as balls - trust me. I’d know how expensive those are - shit a normal person woulda maxed out a credit card or two to buy. Needless to say, I never stuck with one aesthetic in my shitty dorm room for too long. The longer I was in that horrible class, the more my formerly hella OCD room - god, did I really just say hella? I’ve been hanging around Max and Price too much - devolved more into... a physical manifestation of depression. But fuck if my room looked as bad as my brain. And that was all thanks to one Mr. Mark Jefferson.

Ah, yes, that motherfucker. You know when you meet someone for the first time and you know there’s something special about them, like they’re destined to be part of your life forever? Yeah, he was that person for me, but more like... an undeniable vibe of “Fuck You” and pure evil like a phantom in my head till the day he... no, till the day I die. Which, unfortunately, isn’t here yet, but I guess it’s out of spite toward this fucker, so, it’s okay. He’s really an asshole, I hope you know that, dear reader. I’m not gonna tell you what happens to him, ‘cause that would spoil things, and I’m here for a long time, not a good time. Shit, isn’t that supposed to be the other way around? Whatever.

Yeah, yeah, back to the “main story” or whatever the fuck. Not like it’s that interesting or anything to begin with.

I was fifteen the first time he kissed me. He called my name right before the bell rang and told me he needed to see me after class. I wasn’t anxious, mind you - doped up on meds the way I was that year, I’d be surprised if my body had a single drop of adrenaline that wasn’t soaked up by pills. I thought he saw me texting under the desk. By “under the desk,” I actually mean very, very obviously, only half-assing my attempt to hide it with the textbook. It was obvious cause we weren’t using the textbook that day. I went up and started going on about how I had some real important shit to do, and that’s why I was on my phone, or whatever, but he clearly wasn’t listening so I just trailed off. Once that one kid left, fuckin... ah, fuck if I remember his name. Once we were alone, he told me saw real potential in me. Dumbass freshman Nathan believed him. I mean, it was the first time someone ever said that to me, so. I was fuckin confused, if anything, I didn’t have a witty comeback like usual, or even a tasteful way to say ‘fuck’. That’s how I knew I was fucked. ... You know what, no, I’m not gonna say fuck any less. ‘Cause fuck you, that’s fuckin why. Anyway, blah, blah, blah, he said some more shit, I was still stood there with my eyes bugging out like the dumb freshman I was, an’ he was sitting on his desk but when the bell for the next class rang, he... he stood up, and he cupped the left side’a my face, yeah, left side, I’ll never forget that... No, I don’t need a minute, I’m good. Shut up. I’m good. I’m...

 

**(At this time, the Prescott heir roughly wipes tears from his eyes with his jacket sleeve, and then continues.)**

 

I was just worried the fuckin... next class would see us. What did I know, though, ‘cause I always got hungry around that time and ditched to go get lunch at Two Whales, an’ that was actually free period for studying or whatever the fuck. He kissed me, and my fuckin’ virgin ass was rock hard already - yeah, not like, _literally,_ or anything. Didn’t even have a dick back then. Fuck off, I’m getting to it. I kissed him back, or like, didn’t resist, or whatever, my brain was fuckin fried anyway. I mean, I already had a dumb crush on him, who the hell wouldn’t? Yeah, not _now,_ but, like... Guy’s hot as fuck. What else do ya want me to say? God, there was this thing he would do with his glasses, he used to do it in the middle of class _just_ to fuck me up. It worked every damn time, too.

God, would you fuck off and let me tell my damn story? I thought that’s what you wanted from me. God. Fuck. Where was I?

The day in the classroom. Right. The day it all started. Called me up after class, kissed me to shut me up, my gay ass was having the time of its fuckin life... yeah, that’s where I was. It wasn’t my first kiss but... let’s just say it was the first one I’d been c- mostly sober for. His hands went to my hips, mine went to his neck, he picked me up so I had my legs around him and he set me on his desk and we just made out for a while. I just barely started on T back then, so it was fuckin weird feeling his beard scratch against my face, but fuck if it wasn’t hot as hell,  ‘n the way he kissed was so... gentle, hah, only time you’ll ever hear me use that to describe him. Only time it ever applied, either.

‘Nyways, that was really it. Before I knew it, the bell for lunch rang and he pulled back, and, _god,_ the way he smiled at me, I swear to fuckin’ hell and back that’s the only reason I took “slit my fucking wrists” off my google calendars. ... Jeez, it was a joke, fuckin’ relax! For real, though, that was the first time someone aside from Kris that ever smiled, like, for real at me. Everything else was just fake shit for the cameras or the paychecks.

Wait, I forgot the question, was it the first time we kissed or the first time I fell in love with him? Eh, doesn’t matter, that was both anyway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> https://imgur.com/a/5IfZs7r here’s some pics of Jazzy (my cat), as promised


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In part 2 of an interview conducted in Arcadia Bay, years after the event that changed the lives of everyone in the town, Nathan Prescott talks about the Dark Room and Rachel Amber.
> 
>  
> 
> _R.I.P. to my youth / and you can call this the funeral_  
>  _R.I.P. to my youth / if you really listen this is to you_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fic writer Kyler symphonysoldierxiii disappoints yet again by letting an entire season go by between updates
> 
> ALSO THIS ISNT DONE BUT ITS GONNA GET DELETED SOON AND IM SCARED FOR MY DRAFT BABY

 The first time I went to the dark room? Hah, you do realize the dark room was my property, my money, my fuckin’... The only thing I _didn’t_ do was get involved. Not too deep, anyway. Never even knew what he was doing down there ‘til I fucked up and went down there lookin’ for Rachel. God, Rachel fuckin’ Amber.

I guess you could say it started with Rachel. No, not _all_ of it, like, I sucked his dick and that wasn’t ‘cause’a Rachel, that was my own dumb ass decision, but, like, the worst of it, y’know? Like, yeah, it was fucked up from the beginning, but like, the first couple years were almost preparation for what happened after Rachel. ‘N by the time it happened, I was in too deep. I coulda gone to the police, or whatever, but after he... when... fuck off, I’m fine! Jeez, if I’m not fine, I’ll say somethin’ about it! Where the fuck was I?

Right. By the time the... the _thing_ with Rachel happened, I... … “what thing?” Oh, yeah, sure, just make the apparently traumatized kid say the fuckin’ words. Nah, I can do it, not about to let down the people that graciously _offered_ to interview me. The night Ma- _he_ kidnapped the only other person who ever cared about me- yes, it was fucking Rachel, jesus, is this about me or her? God. He drugged her, took photos, then my dumb fuckin’ ass walked down there ‘cause I had a nightmare again ‘n Rachel wasn’t around for me to talk to. Figured I could rant to Mark while he worked on whatever the hell I assumed he did down there, or at least fuck my nerves away. If he wasn’t there, I woulda napped on the floor or whatever with something of his so I’d at least be able to pretend I was with someone who would keep me safe. Ah, the irony. Can’t believe I ever thought that shitstain would be able to protect me. Did more fuckin’ damage than my dad ever did, and that’s saying something.

Yeah, so, I went down there, and I guess my loud fucking footsteps or whatever helped wake Rachel up, or at least that’s what he told me, ‘cause when I walked in she... she was struggling against the rope on her wrists ‘n ankles, an’ M... I can say it, fuck off! _Mark_ was sticking her with a needle, and she looked at me, but she wasn’t there, not really. Our eyes met but she was so... distant. I still see that look whenever I close my eyes. And Mark didn’t even acknowledge me. Just finished taking his pictures, with the camera _I fucking bought him._ Rich and famous photographer, my ass. Whatever.


End file.
